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18 December 2017

Why I Love England at Christmas Time | Blogmas Day 15

I have a huge love/hate relationship with my home country. I'm constantly wanting to leave it, but always happy to return, I love the hot weather and tanning myself silly, but there's nothing better to me than curling up in front of a fire. I love being a tourist in old European towns, yet often find myself comparing them to the cotswolds and the stunning 16th century church on the doorstep of my family home. But one thing I can say, is that for me, England does Christmas just right.

London turns into the city of dreams - if you avoid Oxford Street on Saturday - and mulled wine is sold by both stall sellers and every pub alike. We have MINCE PIES and the weather actually gets cold cold. We have towns who dedicate their squares to christmas markets, and children spend November rehearsing to be villager number 3, or the duck (me) in their school christmas plays.

We don't have Thanksgiving or Australia Day or Bastille, or really, any national holiday that we celebrate, so Christmas is our chance to go ALL OUT. And bloody hell do we. Christmas Eve is essentially a chance for everyone in your home town to go out reminiscing and drinking until around 3am and then waking up on Christmas Day to start all again with Bucks Fizz for breakfast.

Christmas time is my favourite time to be British. Even though the trains never run on time because of ice, and people are still talking about Brexit over their mulled cider, we know how to do Christmas. Euston Station turns into a shelter for the homeless, this week three people bought strangers coffee at my work, and Christmas cheer for me is always going to be that much more exciting when you feel it through your hat, scarf and gloves. Even if it means being hungover on Christmas day.